


Family Ties

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Vienna Blood (TV)
Genre: Angst, Family Bonding, Family Secrets, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Regret, Tenderness, compassion - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29648457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: When Mendel Liebermann discovers through a stranger that Max has been injured, love and fear overcome pride and he determines to attempt a reconciliation.
Relationships: Max Liebermann/Oskar Rheinhardt
Kudos: 4





	Family Ties

**Author's Note:**

> Playing with the relationships in Max's family again. Beating up the Boys again. If you don't enjoy hurt/comfort you won't enjoy my output, lol. The stories have overlapping characters, relationships and situations, with changing/mutating thoughts in the different works about how they all interact and feel about challenges in their relationships. Procrastinating on finishing the really angsty one I've been working on for months.

When the customer he was fitting for bespoke dress shirts began to chat about city gossip, Mendel Liebermann was only half listening. He heard such gossip often throughout his workdays, so he either knew half the stories already or didn't care about most of them. He had learned that it should not be said men didn't indulge just as robustly in the so-called women's vice. The man's prattle penetrated his consciousness, however, when he heard 'police investigation gone wrong' and something about a civilian consultant to the police having been hurt the day before.

He finished their business and excused himself to go and sit in his office. His mind had of course gone to Max. How many civilian consultants to the Vienna police could there be? Surely only countable on one hand, if that. If they were not exactly estranged, he and Max had been drifting farther from each other for many months. He no longer knew what Max was doing with his life these days.

What he did know was that they'd stopped listening to each other from the time Max had taken up the teachings of Dr Freud and had become, Mendel had felt, too politically attuned. Things had always been difficult for the Jews of Vienna and indeed Jews anywhere, and Max and his depressing warnings meant he'd begun to be talked about in the Jewish community as seeing trouble where little existed and being a bit of an alarmist. And of course, he'd also broken his engagement to Clara Weiss. These were all things Mendel and Rachel didn't approve of.

Coming from lower middle class roots, both husband and wife wanted to be considered part of the upper middle class in Vienna, gentiles and Jews together. They had worked hard, both of them, to house, clothe and educate their children to a life they themselves hadn't had, and to improve their social status. So when anything threatened that, even their son, they weren't happy and felt it necessary to tell him so.

It had become increasingly apparent, however, that Max very much had a mind of his own. He was loving and respectful, but he stood up for his own ideas and his own wishes; his own life. He listened to his father, but he did what he wanted most of the time. This of course had angered Mendel and they'd had words. Angry and disappointed words, which had wounded both of them. Max began avoiding him because he was hurt by the exchanges. It had taken a long time, but he had begun to acknowledge that there was some truth in what Max believed. His son, however, no longer sought his approval or counsel. Was it too late for that any more?

Meeting Oskar Rheinhardt had been the impetus for Max to take action in several ways, as far as wanting to begin living his own life. He had willingly embarked on his consultant's position helping the inspector, no matter how sordid the cases or the occasional danger involved. It made him, Mendel supposed, feel valued and listened to. He'd realized that Rheinhardt had been the cause of Max's broken engagement when Max moved out of the family home in order to share Rheinhardt's house. He had accepted Max's explanation on the surface for his and the family's sake, but he believed it was more. It brought back memories of a painful situation in the past, and he considered these memories another warning that Max could slip away from him and from the family. He didn't know, however, how the inspector felt about his son. Was he worthy of Max's regard, his affection? Would he be there for him, for this and for other things? Had Max given his heart to someone who would hurt or betray him?

Mendel was angry and heartsick that he was being excluded, even though he knew he was mostly to blame. He was worried about Max, missed him, and today's news was the last straw. He dialed the telephone number of Max's consulting rooms, unsurprised when the young woman who minded his office told him that Dr Liebermann would not be in the office until the following week. His head began a dull throb, and he could feel his blood pressure rising. He dialed Rheinhardt's telephone number at the police station next. He learned that the inspector would be out of the office for two days, perhaps three. At this point he knew what he didn't want to know, that Max was certainly injured. The last number he called was his own home, asking to speak with Leah. Although she didn't speak of it, he believed she had been to Rheinhardt's house before and likely knew the telephone number. The maid told him that Leah had gone out early with a basket of items for the sickbed; for charity, she assumed.

There was no doubt at all now. That not only his son but his daughter as well were hiding something this important from him made him angry, of course it would, but it also hurt and was a bit frightening. Was his brilliant boy so reluctant to see him that it was felt necessary, and by whom? Was he badly injured? He had to know. Hands shaking, he locked the office, told his clerks he was going to be out for the rest of the day, and hailed a cab. He did at least know where the house was. If contact had to be made this way, it's what he would do.

***

Oskar was in the bedroom with Max, and Leah was in the kitchen heating some soup. Max's jaw wasn't broken, but it was bruised and sore and it was painful for him to chew, so it would be soup, broth and puddings for a few days. There was a sharp rap on the door and Leah called out that she would see to it, assuming it was either their neighbor Annika or Dr Samuelson.

"Papa!" she gasped on opening the door. She saw the anger in his eyes, both at her and at Max. This couldn't be a worse time. "Come in Papa, but please don't- Max isn't well," she began, praying the scene wouldn't be as bad as she feared.

"That, I have had to learn not from him or the inspector and not from you, but from a stranger," he growled.

"Papa, please," she begged softly.

"I want to see my son!" he shouted.

Oskar heard of course, and so did Max, who drew a shaky breath and winced, grasping Oskar's hand with his uninjured one.

"Damn," he whispered.

"It will be all right, _liebe._ I'm here," Oskar soothed. He did not want a confrontation or angry words with Max's father. What he'd seen of him, he rather liked. But at this time, he would protect Max from upset no matter who or what the cause. Leah appeared in the doorway, moving to the opposite side of the bed.

The significance of the two of them hovering protectively around Max, shielding him, was not lost on Mendel. Whatever the amount of anger that had brought him here, fear for Max had been just as great. As he took in the scene, all of his anger disappeared.

"Maxim," he groaned. Max lay in bed, propped up by pillows. A half-drunk mug of tea sat on a bedside table. He was pale and sweating, and clearly wary. His left eye was blackened, and there was a square of bandage over the brow. His face was cut and bruised and his left forearm was in a cast, resting awkwardly on the bed and supported by a pillow. He was looking up bravely, resigned to whatever chastisement would come. Although Mendel would learn eventually, asking exactly what had happened and why didn't seem very important in the moment. He slowly brought his hand to Max's hair and stroked it gently.

"I'm sorry this has happened to you. I hurt when you hurt, though I understand how you would doubt it," he sighed.

"Are you angry, Papa?" Max asked hesitantly. That he asked this question first of all hurt Mendel's heart. He shook his head.

"Not with you. And not with you either." His gaze included Rheinhardt and Leah. "Because I know that my son has a strong will of his own, to do what he will do. If I feel anger it's with myself. Does it hurt very badly?"

Max sighed. "It isn't good just now, but it will get better. It isn't fatal, Papa, don't worry."

Mendel couldn't stop the tears filling his eyes. "Well of course I worry, because I love you. And you know - you both know - it could have been fatal. But you are being well looked after, with love. I can see that. I - " He stopped there, choking, and stood. "I'm sorry, I must go outside, to gather my thoughts. There are things I must tell you, and I must get them right in my head before they come to my tongue. Don't worry, I'll be back in a few minutes." With that he hurriedly left the room, Leah attempting to follow.

"No," he cautioned her, "stay with Max. I'll be back." He squeezed her shoulder as he passed. A moment later they heard the front door open and close.

"Not," Leah breathed, "what I expected. Maybe it's a good thing, Maxie. He isn't angry, and that's a start. Give him a chance," she pleaded. Max nodded silently, grimacing. It was past time for another dose of laudanum, which he should have had along with the soup which should have been already in his stomach but for the unexpected visit. She knew he would try to refuse it until their father had gone, though Oskar might be able to coax him. She went to the front window and saw her father sitting on a bench in the little yard, his head in his hands. She had been feeling guilty as it was, hiding the fact that she visited with Max and Oskar fairly often. She'd felt worse not saying anything about his injuries. But this… She opened the door and went to sit beside him.

"It's all right, Papa. Difficult for both of you, I know, but Max will heal. We will all heal and be a family again. Do you think he no longer loves you? Never. Max loves you very much. He couldn't stop if he tried, and he has never tried. He's missed you a great deal. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you any of this, but I have a loyalty to Max, and to Oskar too," Leah tried to explain.

Mendel sighed. "I understand. It's no more than I have deserved. Is Max happy here, with the inspector? They are..good together?" he asked.

Leah smiled. "Yes Papa. He's very content, and they are perfect together. Oskar settles him," she assured him. "It makes me happy, visiting here. They allow me to be who I am," she explained.

"As you allow them to be who they are?" Mendel smiled slightly, squeezing his daughter's hand. Leah hesitated. "You think I don't know, or that I mind? Of course I know," he lied, for he hadn't been certain and still was not completely. "And I don't mind, if Max is well," he told her.

"He's beyond happy, Papa. I envy them, sometimes."

"I'm glad. Relieved," he admitted.

"Will you speak to him now? He's in pain and is waiting to take his medicine. He wants to be awake while you're here," Leah explained.

"Yes, of course. Come," Mendel agreed, rising and keeping hold of her hand. "You are a remarkable woman, and a good daughter, mother and sister. I'm proud of you." He hugged her, and she returned the hug.

"Are you proud of Max?"

"Of course I am. But he is a little younger, and the world hasn't tried and tested him quite as much as it has you, not yet. I believe in both of you."

When they entered the bedroom, any remaining doubts Mendel had about his son's relationship with Rheinhardt or about how seriously the latter took it were put to rest. The inspector sat on the bed next to Max, trying to get him to have some of the soup, and to take the medicine which would ease his pain. His arm was around Max, and Max's head rested in trust on his shoulder. Their eyes and their bodies, Mendel sighed to himself, said everything. Leah brought him a chair so he could sit beside the bed. Rheinhardt looked up at him, ready to release Max and leave the two of them alone if Leah did the same.

"Should we - ?" he began. Mendel shook his head.

"No, you should stay, you and Leah. What I say to Maxim concerns you both as well. I won't be long, and please, take your medicine now so you'll rest when I've gone," he encouraged Max. "You should not be in pain because of me, _meyn zun._ " He only slipped into Yiddish when he was feeling very emotional and said what was in his heart, without thinking. He took Max's hand and held it in both of his own. Oskar put the glass of laudanum solution to Max's lips and he drank, eyes on his father's face.

"You are my first-born child, and my only son. You have always been the light of my life." He glanced apologetically at Leah, who understood what he meant and was not resentful, if she was resigned. Sons simply counted for more than daughters in the Jewish community. It didn't mean the daughters or the wives weren't loved, weren't valued and even treasured. It only meant that sons and fathers were the foundation and heart of every family. That she mattered to Max and Oskar for herself had been a powerful draw to their side.

"I have always been proud of you, and I always will be," he smiled. "You might upset me, make me angry or sad or afraid for you. I might still believe I know a bit more about some things simply because I've lived in this world longer than you. But I have always loved you and I always will. I will not in future, however, believe I know more about everything than you. It's difficult not to see your child, whom you've held swaddled and then helped to learn to walk, as a child forever. A father's conceit is difficult to lose. But I see now, and I know that you are a man. A strong, brave and wise young man. I should have listened to you sooner," Mendel confessed.

"And I should have listened to you more," Max murmured, eyes soft and gentle, the Max he remembered as a boy.

"We do what the heart wants at times, regardless of what the head thinks. Those who cannot do this are not fully living, I think. I see myself in danger of becoming my father, and I see your uncle Levi in you, Max. You barely knew your grandfather. He was a very strict, stern and traditional man, quite unforgiving. Obedience was more important to him than love. I'm not sure he knew love. I don't want to be like him," Mendel revealed.

"You aren't, Papa. I know you aren't," Max responded, his voice thick. His father closed his eyes for a moment in relief and gratitude, leaning down to kiss his son tenderly on the top of his head.

"You have my brother's beautiful eyes, Maxim, and I see and hear him speaking to me through you. He was bright - oh, how his light shone, so many times - and gentle and kind, always wanting to avoid conflict and cross words, just like you. Sensitive and easily hurt like you also, which is how I lost him. You are like Levi in another way as well, my son. Your grandfather drove him away with intolerance. I will never do that to you. As long as you're happy, I am happy for you and I will never judge you - either of you," he added, looking at Oskar, who had to work to keep his mouth from dropping open. All this time he'd known about them, or suspected, and did not reject them.

"That means a great deal, I'm sure to Max but also to me, Herr Liebermann. Thank you." Oskar's response was sincere.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Max looked to Leah, who appeared as shocked by the news as he was.

"If I knew, I'd forgotten. I remember raised voices sometimes, and a sad, angry feeling in the house. I remember being rather afraid of Grandfather. And then no more visits from Uncle Levi. Papa, didn't you tell us he had gone to America with his friend?" Leah frowned. "I was no more than eleven or twelve, so it wasn't clear to me."

"Yes, Levi and Avram went to America, to New York. I get a letter occasionally, but never often enough. I miss him. They have a good business, an emporium - a department store, I think they call it. It's quite successful, Levi says, and they look well, and prosperous. It makes me glad to know, even if I can't see him. I miss him," Mendel repeated, "and I have missed you, very much. I couldn't bear it any longer. I am not my father, I cannot be. To live his way is to rip out your heart." He stopped, overcome by emotion.

Leah came and put her arms around him, laying her cheek against his hair. "It's all right, Papa. It's all right now," she soothed.

Max held up his free arm and Mendel went into the offered embrace. There he faltered, beginning to cry almost silently, grateful for the love and compassion of his son. At this point, with a shared look Oskar and Leah stood and left them alone.

Max held him for several minutes, then his arm dropped away and Mendel realized that the laudanum had taken hold and he was drifting off to sleep. He stood reluctantly, straightening the bedclothes and tucking them around Max as he had when he was very young. Leaning down, he cupped Max's face gently and kissed him on the forehead, brushing back his hair.

"Sleep well my son, and heal quickly. When you wake, Leah and I will be gone but Oskar will be here, as it should be. And we will see each other, talk to each other. The two of you will come to Sunday dinner sometimes, yes?"

"Yes Papa. We would like that," Max agreed drowsily. "And you'll tell me more about Uncle Levi?"

"Of course, and share with you his photos and letters. My son coming to know his uncle would be a blessing, to know he won't be forgotten when I'm gone. And perhaps you will even wish to write to him," Mendel suggested.

"Yesss," Max slurred, smiling.

"Goodbye, Maxim. Sleep now. I'll be back." Max barely nodded, sinking deeper.

"Love you," he mumbled.

"I know. It feels very nice, your love. I'll keep it wrapped around me," Mendel whispered. Max's lips curved up, and he was asleep.

In the living room, Leah was sitting with Oskar, holding his hand, both having a brandy. Mendel tried not to notice the tear tracks on his face.

"Shall we go home now and leave them to each other?" he asked quietly. "You're all right?" he directed to Oskar. Leah nodded and went to get her things.

"Yes, I'm all right, and so will Max be, now," Oskar assured him. "He has missed you terribly and I could only hurt for him. Thank you for your courage and generosity. It means so much. You are a good man." He put out his hand, and Mendel shook it firmly.

"So, I think, are you. Take good care of him."

"Always. He is..he is my treasure," Oskar stammered.

"And you are his. It's a gift from God, a love so strong."

"Yes."

Leah appeared at her father's elbow.

***

The house was quiet at last. Oskar occupied himself tidying the kitchen, thinking about the last few hours and what it meant for all of them. He was so young when his own father died that he didn't have a good sense of what sort of father he'd been, not really. He would have been content, he thought, if he had been anything like Max's father. Strong when he needed to be, kind and understanding with his family. Not afraid to admit fault. Rather, being afraid but doing it anyway. The definition of bravery. In that, Max was certainly like his father.

In the cab, Leah leaned on her father's shoulder. She was proud of him, and of Max, and relieved that the family was whole once more.

"I hope that you'll find such happiness again some day."

"Thank you, Papa. I am content enough, especially now. But if I ever had a chance at the kind of love they share, I would feel blessed."

Oskar had turned out all the lights except a small one in the bedroom, in case Max needed anything in the night. He took off his clothes in silence, trying not to wake him, and slid into bed on Max's good side.

It was quite unexpected to have actually acquired a family through his love for Max. Such acceptance was rare, and he knew it. It was a comforting feeling, as was the warmth of Max lying beside him.

Max, half in and half out of consciousness, registered Oskar next to him and gave a little hum of pleasure to be in his arms. Despite his injuries, all was right with his world. His last conscious thought was that there was nothing more comforting than the love and security of family.


End file.
